


learning to breathe

by madasaboxofcats



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-23
Updated: 2015-04-23
Packaged: 2018-03-25 10:51:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3807604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madasaboxofcats/pseuds/madasaboxofcats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post 4x18/19 -- Sympathy for the DeVil. </p>
<p>"It isn’t until they’ve turned off of 95 after driving through Bangor that Emma seems to notice they’ve even left Storybrooke."</p>
            </blockquote>





	learning to breathe

It isn’t until they’ve turned off of 95 after driving through Bangor that Emma seems to notice they’ve even left Storybrooke. She is leaning against the door, her head resting against the window like she doesn’t have the energy to lift it, but she turns her eyes to Regina.

“I thought we were going to New York.”

They are the first words she’s spoken in at least four hours.

“Change of plans.”

That’s the end of the conversation.

\---

( _She drives and drives and drives and go faster, go faster because they are in danger – they are always in danger – and she can’t lose them, she just can’t, so she presses the pedal down down down and why didn’t she just magic herself there – so long in a world without magic made her impulses so pedestrian – and god, she needs to get there fast because it’s Henry and it’s Emma and it’s danger._

_When she gets there – heart pounding and thoughts racing – there are Henry and Emma and she counts the right number of limbs and Cruella is gone and she feels the relief wash over her, waves of it crashing into her like the tide is coming in and she is the shore. They are safe (again) and that’s all that matters._

_It takes a moment to notice everything else, like how Snow is fluttering around like she does when she’s anxious and Charming, staring over the edge of the cliff, and Henry (sweet, sweet Henry, who has seen way too much), looking at Emma like he’s afraid. And then there’s Emma, standing at the center of all of it, staring at something in the distance or staring at nothing, but just staring. Emma, who is always moving, is now still._

_Her heart sinks._

_Something is wrong.)_

\---

She waits for a while, busies herself with calling Henry (he’s fine, worried about them but fine) conjuring luggage, moving luggage to their respective bedrooms, and then conjuring tequila. Emma is on the back porch, staring out in the direction of the sea, and she’s not ready to talk yet, Regina knows that, and maybe she won’t ever be, but she pours shots anyway, and opens the sliding door to the outside.

“No hope speech?”

“No hope speech. Just tequila.”

Regina sits in the Adirondack chair beside her, placing the shot glasses on the table between them. Emma picks up a glass without hesitation, and slams her head back.

“I used to come here sometimes. Before Henry. When I got tired of your mother building birdhouse after birdhouse to no end.”

“Where is he? Is he – “

“He’s with Nick’s father. He’s happy to keep him for a while.”

“Thank you.”

She doesn’t say “Thank you for not leaving him with my parents,” but she doesn’t have to.

“You’re welcome.”

Regina downs her shot. It burns.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I know.”

“Any of it.”

Emma reaches for the tequila bottle and pours another round.

\---

( _Emma looks like she’s drowning._

_The sea of people mulls around her, pulling her in every direction, she is slipping underwater, and no one notices._

_Regina pulls her away from Snow and Hook and looks Hook in the eye, daring him to question her._ _  
_

_They need to leave. Emma cannot drown.)_

_\---_

“You packed my clothes.”

She looks up from her book at Emma, who is standing outside of her bedroom, brow furled, her red leather jacket clutched in one hand.

Regina smiles, just a little. “I gave you an entire wardrobe last year in about three seconds. I think I can handle a suitcase. 

Emma looks at her like she can’t quite figure her out. “Why are we here? What do you want from me?” 

Because no one ever does anything for Emma without wanting something in return. Because she is the Savior with a capital S. Because her life has been built on other people’s choices, other people’s manipulations, other people’s agendas. Because Emma has learned that everything, including kindness, comes at a cost. 

“From you? Nothing.”

_For you, everything._

\---

_(Later, she will wonder if this was the right decision, if it was even her decision to make – because haven’t people been making decisions for Emma Swan for long enough?_

_But she looks at Emma’s eyes, red-rimmed and so, so tired, and she remembers the warmth of the first heart in her hand, all thrill and wonder and power over a life that had been chosen for her. She remembers every one after, every bit of power taken from the life of another, and she can’t let that happen to Emma. She can’t let Emma become her._

_Not because Emma is the Savior, but because she is_ Emma _and that is enough.)_

\---

“Did it feel good? The first time you did it?”

“Yes.”

“Did it ever stop feeling good?” 

“No.” 

Emma pauses for a moment. 

“It made me feel free.” 

And oh, does she understand that.

\---

_(Freedom used to be the most precious thing to her. Now it is choice. She thinks that there is a difference.)_

\---

She finds Emma sitting on a rock, waves lapping at her feet as the tide rolls in. Her plaid button-down is halfway unbuttoned, and her hand is buried in her shirt on the left side. It isn’t until Regina is next to her that she can see what she is doing, that she can see the scratches and the redness on her chest.

“I can’t get it.” She sounds desperate, a far cry from the dullness of the last three days, her voice wavering while her hand still claws, trying trying trying.

Regina takes Emma’s hand, pulls it away from her heart, holds it.

“That won’t do you any good.”

“I need to see it, Regina, I need to know.” She is pleading now, looking at her with those eyes and in that moment, there isn’t a thing Regina wouldn’t do for her because it’s Emma and Emma asks for so little from her, from any of them, and Emma gives so much.

“Magic doesn’t work that way here.”

“Ours would. Together. We’ve moved the freaking moon, Regina, you and me. Don’t tell me we can’t do this.”

Emma threads their fingers together and brings them back to her chest, her eyes flitting over Regina’s face, searching for acceptance, for approval, for something. Regina closes her eyes and nods.

Emma feels warm around her hand, and for a moment she wants to lose herself in the weightiness of this moment, in the warmth of Emma’s trust. She could hurt her so easily now, one squeeze and it would all be over, one squeeze like she had done hundreds of times before, and Emma knows that. Emma has seen her vault, has seen the Evil Queen, has seen _her_ and she still stands here, her eyes locked with Regina’s, so open, even in all of her pain. The intimacy of it threatens to overwhelm her.

She thinks that maybe this is what redemption feels like.

She has her hand closed around Emma’s heart, ready to take it out, to show her, when she stops. Emma looks at her with concern.

Regina withdraws her hand, empty, and shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this.”

And Emma is all fury and rage and desperation and Regina matches it because oh, this isn’t fair. It isn’t fair that Emma is made to feel this way, like her worth and her Goodness are inextricably tied together.

“What the hell, Regina? I felt you inside my fucking chest, don’t tell me you can’t do it.”

She close, in her anger, and Regina remembers their beginning – all fire and fury and lack of personal space.

“I can do it. But I won’t.”

She thinks Emma might hit her.

“Why the fuck not? I need to see it, I need to know, I need –“

“Because it doesn’t matter!”

Emma steps back. Her voice falters. “What?”

“It doesn’t matter, Emma. Your heart could be pure as they day you were born, or as black as mine, and it wouldn’t make a bit of difference.”

She takes Emma’s hand.

“You are still deserving of love, of family, of a happy ending.” She smiles at her, “Isn’t that what you’ve been trying to impress upon me for the last year?”

Their eyes lock.

“Whatever state it is in right now, we are going to take care of your heart, Emma.”

Emma breathes.

\---

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please forgive my extreme rusty-ness. I don't even know what this is, it just kind of clawed its way out of me.


End file.
